The hostess wasted little time as she worked the head of her dildo across my slit from behind, pressing it down so the shaft rode between my labia without entering. As she pressed her hips to my ass the phallus appeared in front, jutting out lewdly between my legs. She teased me and the crowd as well, taunting my pussy for several minutes before finally drawing the now wet and glistening cock back and pressing it not to my slit, which was begging to be filled, but rather to my anus. She put her lips to my ear, whispering to me in Japanese that her name was Mistress Atsumi and she intended to make me her slave. I shuddered and the gag made insensible my reply, but words were unnecessary in any event. Mistress Atsumi knew what I needed.
The Dominatrix pushed her dildo inside me with a forceful, steady pressure, spreading the round cheeks of my ass apart with her thumbs so she could see the tight sphincter yielding beneath the pressure. I’d been fucked there before, but never like this. None of the men who’d had my asshole had been as thick as that toy now felt. I might have screamed if I hadn’t been so completely gagged. The delicate ring of my anus was being forced open around the smooth head of her phallus, lubricated with the juices from my cunt, and it was another pleasure-pain cocktail for my lust fogged mind to greedily swallow. With an odd popping sensation, the phallus forced itself into my rectum and then she began to fuck me in earnest. Mistress Atsumi held my hips and thrust sharply, with quick, short strokes that took my tender asshole inch by inch until eventually she had all of the dildo buried within the tight confines of my bowels.
She let me rest a moment and perhaps the woman was catching her own breath as well. Completely impaled on her cock and how large it was I couldn’t guess, but it seemed huge to me as my body stretched around it. Mistress Atsumi grabbed my tits then, pressing herself against my back and reaching around and digging her gloved fingers into my tender flesh, by now horribly swollen and purplish from their bonds. Her efforts knocked several of the clips off, another splinter of painful joy, handling my tits roughly, working them up and down, squeezing and pulling, pressing her palms against my burning nipples fucking my ass with violent abandon. I could feel her hot breath against my neck and her leather encased body rubbing against me. It was a glorious fuck filled with pain and pleasure and for the first time in my life I came without feeling any direct stimulation of my clit or vagina, shaking and whimpering like a little girl as Mistress Atsumi bent me completely to her will. I was powerless and it thrilled me to my core.
After our show had ended, the naked young woman who had whipped me and the other one, the teenage girl in the bikini, unbound and took me backstage. The sensation of fresh blood filling my breasts filled my eyes with tears and that seemed a pain as bad as or worse than any other. They cleaned me carefully, washing my body and applying a cream to my breasts which looked terrible from the beating they’d taken. The girls’ hands were gentle and the water was very hot, soothing, and relaxing, which I enjoyed it a great deal.
The girl who’d used the crop on my tits climbed into the water with me, sitting very close, and I watched her lovely face as her hands stroked my flesh. She comforted me in all ways and the pain melted slowly away beneath her tender ministrations. She told me her name was Fumiko and she asked me if she’d hurt me, meaning something more than physically, but I was unsure of how I felt just then. I told her that she had and the smaller woman frowned at that, massaging my nipples with her thumbs while she squeezed my tits carefully. I smiled and dipped my head so that I could catch her dark eyes with mine and I told her that despite the pain, I’d enjoyed it very much. I just didn’t understand how or why and she laughed at that.
“You’ll learn, I think,” Fumiko said. “You were very good for me.”
After my bath I was ready to go back to the table and find my boss and our two guests whom I knew would be pleased and probably ready to leave. They’d take me to a rest house, or perhaps to a love motel, and I’d spend the rest of the night letting the two businessmen have their way with my body, all for the good of the company.
I wasn’t looking forward to it. I was worn out, as you can imagine, and I would much rather go home to my small apartment and spend my time trying to understand what had happened to me and what it all meant. But I couldn’t find my clothes. I stood there in a towel, looking around and unsure of what I was doing. None of the other women were in the small bath just then and I opened the door to peek out. There was a narrow little hall with the bar directly ahead, the stage to the left, and offices to the right. I was concerned because I thought my boss would probably be angry with me if I took too long.
I frowned at the towel and decided it covered me well enough that I could make my way to the bar and ask someone where my things had gone, but about the time I’d made up my mind, Atsumi walked off the stage and saw me. The woman smiled patiently and stepped close to me as I stood there, damp and nervous, and my heart leapt at being confronted by the woman who had fucked me so publicly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked me with a voice that seemed almost playful.
“I’m looking for my clothes, Mistress,” I said somewhat hesitantly, but I’d decided that was the most correct form of addressing her. Somehow ‘Atsumi-san’ didn’t seem like something I could easily say.
“My boss is waiting for me and I do not wish to displease him,” I continued in my somewhat formal Japanese. I kept my eyes lowered and my hands were clutching at the knotted towel between my breasts.
“I gave them to your boss for safekeeping,” the woman smiled at me. “But now he’s already left. Didn’t he leave your clothes with Fumiko?”
“What? No, I don’t think so,” I said, looking around and feeling a little helpless. I didn’t see the VP or his companions anywhere. “He can’t leave! He had my purse also.”
“Oh my! Well, this is a problem, isn’t it?” The beautiful woman shook her head, but her lips curled in a mischievous smile and I understood that she was enjoying my discomfort.
“What am I going to do? My money, my keys, everything was in there!”
I felt very insecure right about then, as you may imagine. Yokohama was a long ways from my apartment in Shinjuku and even if I somehow managed to get home, I couldn’t get through the door.
“Well, I suppose you could come home with me if you like. In the morning you can call him at work. I’m sure it’s just a mistake.”
“But I have to be to work in the morning!” I was almost in tears, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the entire experience. Not merely finding myself naked and helpless, but I hadn’t yet come to reason with what I’d suffered previously. The heart and mind can only take so much and I was breaking inside.
“Oh, shush now!” she actually laughed. “This isn’t so terrible. He’s your boss. He’ll understand if you’re a little late, I think.” Mistress Atsumi was making her proposal sound almost reasonable and I really did have no alternative. I couldn’t even afford the train ride home and while I’m sure the woman would have been happy to lend me a little money, she hadn’t made that offer and I was too embarrassed to ask.
“Maybe,” I nodded slowly. “But I do not wish to be a burden to you.”
“It’s no burden to be someone’s friend,” the woman smiled and reached out to touch my cheek. “We’ll go out and have some fun tonight, you’ll see, and in the morning everything will be fine.”
Atsumi had Fumiko find me a dress. It was about two sizes too small, especially for my breasts, which were big by Japanese standards anyway, and now swollen and overly sensitive. The dress was leather, bright yellow with an old fashioned bodice, like a corset that laced closed across my stomach up to my breasts. When I put the dress on it barely covered my nipples and the untied laces hung free like tassels from my tits as they were pushed upward in a lewd display of female flesh. The bottom of the dress flared into a stiff leather skirt that barely covered my ass, and at my hips the dress stretched very little, hugging my body tightly in a warm, buttery sheath.
The outfit actually felt wonderful around my waist and stomach, but I felt quite dismayed by my appearance. My body was only barely contained, with my tits threatening to spill out of the bodice and my ass and even my pussy hidden only so long as I stood straight and still. Walking would be a challenge to my modesty and sitting down was out of the question! I looked like a very cheap prostitute, but Atsumi clapped with happy approval when she saw me.
Fumiko was smiling as well, although I couldn’t tell which she enjoyed more, my trepidation or Atsumi’s pleasure. The girl giggled as she gave me a black leather thong that I held up for a moment, blinking at it. I’d owned and worn many thongs, but I’d hoped for something a little more concealing to wear under that dress. Nevertheless, I put it on, pulling taut the thin leather between my butt cheeks while Atsumi watched patiently. I struggled to get into a pair of open toed patent leather pumps, with four inch heels that fit, but obviously weren’t designed for comfort. They accentuated the effects of my new dress, forcing me to tilt my hips and arch my back as I had to stand almost tip-toe while Fumiko knelt and fastened the thin straps around my ankles.
I hoped we were going straight to Atsumi’s apartment, because just walking through the club as we left proved decidedly uncomfortable. Though most of the customers had already seen my little performance on the stage, there were a lot of comments, the men were brutally vulgar for the most part, speaking loudly for my benefit as much as their companions’ and my face reddened noticeably.
Atsumi had dressed as a Mistress should, attired as a fetishist wet dream, as admittedly I was. She wore a black leather dress, longer than mine and much better fitting. It had a skirt that fell just above her knees, but was very tight all the same, as though molded to her hips and thighs and wonderfully pert buttocks. The top was more of a corset than a real dress, with a push up bustier that had been laced tightly in the back. She wore black gloves, the leather clinging to her arms up to the elbows and her hair pulled back severely, pinned into an elaborate knot. Her face had been made up perfectly, as was mine after spending ten minutes in front of a mirror with Fumiko’s undivided attention. Atsumi carried a small leather purse with long straps and she slipped it over my shoulder, telling me to carry it for her.
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